


You Built Yourself a Myth

by DennisReynolds



Category: It's Always Sunny in Philadelphia
Genre: Angst, Angst with a Happy Ending, Dennis is a sad boye, Explicit Sexual Content, Hand Jobs, High School, M/M, Mental Health Issues, Recreational Drug Use
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-07-21
Updated: 2018-08-12
Packaged: 2019-06-14 03:58:46
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 10,185
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15380163
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DennisReynolds/pseuds/DennisReynolds
Summary: How Dennis and Ronnie learned to shove their feelings down and keep an eye on them.Starts out in High School and then carries on beyond.





	1. prelude

**Author's Note:**

> This is chapter one of quite a few... tags will be updated as series goes on

“If you built yourself a myth  
You'd know just what to give  
What comes after this  
Momentary bliss  
Consequence of what you do to me

Help me to name it”

 

They’re in Ronnie’s bedroom, slumped on the floor despite the fact there are perfectly good places to sit that were, y’know, designed for sitting. The carpet is stained and smells like a fucking ashtray, but Dennis likes playing with the loose threads as he sits. 

He likes coming round to Ronnie’s house. Yeah it’s decrepit and there’s black mould in the bathroom and the hall smells like piss but he feels at ease here in a way that he doesn’t in his own home. Dennis is never scared he’s gonna break something or say the wrong thing and get into a screaming match with his mother. Ronnie’s mom leaves them alone. She’s either out playing poker or glued to the tv downstairs. Sometimes she remembers to put something on the table for dinner. He can’t stomach the kind of food Mrs. Macdonald cooks, usually something straight out of a tin or a jar or a box, just fat and carbs and processed meat. He always eats it to be polite though. The look on Ronnie’s face would be unbearable if he didn’t. It’s the only time he finishes a meal, so he supposes he should be glad of it. He couldn’t do that to Ronnie, anyway. He’s surprisingly house proud for someone who was born and bred in an absolute shithole. 

Dennis watches Ronnie, cigarette hanging out of his mouth, t-shirt riding up his torso as he leans over to try and change the cassette without getting up, the lazy piece of shit. “Green Day or Soundgarden?”

Dennis blinks back to life. “Hmm?”

Ronnie pointedly holds up a tape. “Music, bro. What do you want to listen to next?”

Dennis wrinkles his nose. “Got anything that isn’t noise? Got any Cure?”

“Excuse me! Soundgarden rock!”

Dennis laughs. “Soundgarden are fucking lame dude.”

Ronnie shakes his head and keeps rifling through the cardboard box. Dennis looks out of the window. He can’t see any stars, it’s a clear night, but there’s far too much light pollution. At home, in the suburbs, he can trace the constellations. “I have Disintegration. Is that okay?”

Dennis grins. “You bet your ass it is buddy! Fire her up! I’m in serious need of some Robert Smith right now.”

Ronnie shakes his head again, taking another puff, but he can’t help the smile that creeps over his face as he settles down on the floor again. He cracks open another PBR, the third of the night, and pours half of it into Dennis’ mug before swigging from the can himself. They clink porcelain and tin together and drink deep. They both cough and splutter through the mouthful.

Dennis hammers his fist on his chest “I’m sure I’ll get used to the taste of beer eventually but until then, bro, this is fucking rank”

Ronnie takes another miserable gulp. “I know what you mean man, I don’t know how adults drink this shit all the time. I’m trying to drink a lot so I can get more used to it, y’know, but I’m not enjoying it at all.”

Dennis holds his gaze. “Why do something you don’t enjoy?”

Ronnie has to look away. “Because it’s what men do, isn’t it? Drink beer.” Dennis keeps watching him, tracing his eyes around the room. He takes Ronnie’s half finished cigarette out of his limp hand on the floor and puts it in his own mouth. Ronnie continues, “It’s like the whole sex thing, man. I just don’t get it.”

“As in, you don’t get laid or don’t understand it?”

“Both I guess. I’m 17 and still a virgin, how much of a man can I be? You want in on this by the way?” He holds up a baggie of lemon haze.

Dennis rubs his tired eyes with the heel of his hand. “Sure. Listen, Ronnie,” he sighs, “that’s not how it works. That’s not how any of this works. A guy who fucks fifty women isn’t more worthy than a guy who fucks five, or zero for that matter”

Ronnie’s now rolling a joint, arranging two papers into an L-shape and holding a bag of tobacco in between his teeth. “Asseasyhoryouhasay”

Dennis cackles. “I’m sorry what now?”

Ronnie takes the bag out of his mouth and flips the bird. “That’s easy for you to say. You’ve had sex like, a million times already”

“Four. I’ve had sex four times already. And honestly man, it’s not all it cracked up to be.” Ronnie has his tongue on the paper now, but raises his eyebrows in an indication for Dennis to keep going. Dennis shrugs and stubs the cigarette out in an old Phillies mug half full of roaches and filters. “I mean sure I came and all, don’t get me wrong, that feels fucking fantastic. But,” He sighs again, and starts fidgeting with the loose fibres on the carpet now that he has nothing else to occupy his hands with. “After all that, when you walk away, you’re still just you. Everything comes back and you feel exactly the same as you felt before.”

Ronnie wordlessly hands over the unlit joint. Dennis wipes his eyes with the back of his hand and takes it, before glancing around and motioning for a lighter. Ronnie sidles over and lights the dovetail whilst Dennis shakily inhales. The tip glows and Ronnie leans back, resting his head against the mattress. He groans. “I don’t know man. High school’s over in a few months and I don’t want to end it a virgin” 

Dennis hands him the joint. “It’ll happen man. You’re a good looking dude. The right person is there, it’s gonna happen”

Ronnie’s a little blurry around the edges now. The air is thick with blue smoke despite the window being cracked open. He’s red eyed and gesticulating wildly in between puffs. “You don’t fucking know that! Den, Den, it’s so easy for you! You don’t know what it’s like to-”

Dennis is giggling now. “Jesus Christ if you’re that desperate I’ll fuck you!”

The world seems quiet, despite ‘Love Song’ by the Cure playing out of Ronnie’s tinny speakers, and Dennis dissolving into quite peals of laughter next to him. Ronnie shakes him on the shoulder. “You serious bro?”

Dennis is red faced and wheezing. “Yeah buddy. If you finish High School a virgin then I’ll help you out”

Ronnie can’t feel his arms. “You’re joking. You’d..? You wanna...?”

Dennis grins and licks his lips. “Sure. Why not?”

“Because it’s gay and you’re not, I mean, I’m not..”

Dennis takes the joint back from him. “Nah buddy, it would just be a friend helping out another friend.” He puts his hand on Ronnie’s shoulder. “I’d do anything to help you out man”

Ronnie is looking at Dennis’ hand, and then up at his eyes. He can feel his heart beat in his throat. “So we’re doing this?”

Dennis smirks. “Sure looks like it. Don’t blame me when it’s not as good as you think it will be though.” Ronnie blinks. He has sudden visions of that mouth on his neck, of his fingers running through Dennis’ curls, of their naked bodies pressed together. He feels faint. “Ronnie?” 

He snaps back to reality. Dennis is looking at him expectantly. He’s waiting for an answer. Ronnie clears his throat. “We’re both guys though. How would it even work? Who would be the girl?”

“No one would be the girl”, Dennis says through a thick mouthful of smoke. “We’re both guys”

“Yeah but who would-”

“Ronnie” Dennis takes the lighter out of his hand to relight the dying joint. “I think you’re overthinking this”

Ronnie runs a hand through his hair. “I think you’re underthinking it!” 

Dennis doesn’t answer, just smiles his hazy, absent grin and shrugs. “Maybe so”

Ronnie clears his throat. “So. After prom then?”

Dennis frowns. “I mean sure. But I feel like I’ll be balls deep inside some chick. My eyes are on Becky Delvecchio, but who knows”

“Uh okay.. So before then? But I guess that doesn’t work with the whole by the end of the year thing. So I guess after? What do you-”

Dennis cuts him off. “This is supposed to be a good thing, man. You’re making it so hard. It can just be easy.”

Ronnie throws the end of the joint out of his open window into the weeds out back. “What do you mean?” He takes another swig of beer.

Dennis shrugs again for what feels like the thousandth time, betraying nothing, blinking slowly. “Ronald. It can just be easy, if you want it to be”

A bead of sweat drips down Ronnie’s back. “I want it to be easy.”

Dennis’ body is now flush with his, shoulder to shoulder. “I know you do”

And then he’s closer than he’s ever been, and he can see Dennis leaning in and closing his eyes, and they’re kissing. He puts his hand on Dennis’ face and holds it there like he’s scared the tide will wash him away. Ronnie slips his tongue into Dennis’s open mouth, and it’s the weirdest thing he’d ever felt but he never wants it to end. Dennis’s lips are so soft, and he tastes how he smells. He moves his hand down to rub Dennis’ forearm and Dennis whines, which is enough to send heat pooling beneath his legs and for Christ’s sake Ronnie’s as hard as anything and it’s only been about fifteen seconds. Dennis leans back, but keeps their foreheads pressed together. He’s giggling again, past the point of no return. He whispers, “Dude my mouth is so fucking dry”, like it’s a secret. Then he leans over and reaches past Ronnie for his can of PBR and takes a swig, licking the drops off his flushed mouth. Now leaned over, Dennis is practically in Ronnie’s lap. He seems to realise this and double takes at the proximity of their faces again. He smiles, puts a hand to his mouth and strokes Ronnie’s face with the other. He says, “Hello”, like it’s the first time they’ve met. Like they’re introducing themselves.

Ronnie licks his lips. Dennis, his Dennis, is in his lap, curls falling into his eyes, flushed and breathless. He smiles despite himself. He doesn’t know what to say, so he just says “Hey.” And then they’re back. Dennis hooks his left leg over so he’s now straddling Ronnie, dips his head and kisses him again with renewed urgency. He moans something liquid and Ronnie’s hips buck up against his ass. Dennis grinds down, creating a rhythm, a give and take. They’ve now reached a synchronicity, an understanding. He picks Ronnie’s hands up off the floor and places them on his hips, just under his shirt. “You hard?” he asks.

Ronnie swallows. “Are you not?”

Dennis grins. “Nah man, I’m too high. This is pretty cool though”

Ronnie’s eyes fill with panic. “What?”

Dennis shakes his head. “You gotta relax man, stop taking yourself so seriously.”

Ronnie has stopped moving now. Only rubbing his thumbs absent mindedly over Dennis’s is waist. “I don’t take myself too seriously” 

Dennis takes Ronnie’s face in his hands and kisses him once on the mouth, hard. He gets nose to nose with Ronnie and mutters “Dennis says relax”, looking him right in the eyes. He then grins something wicked sinks down, dragging his ass over Ronnie’s crotch, summoning a groan from somewhere deep inside him. Dennis lowers his mouth and Ronnie seems to get the idea, tilting his head to the side so Dennis can suck at his neck.

Ronnie’s eyes screw shut, his mouth falling open. It feels like Dennis is trying to devour him whole like a snake. His mouth is decorating Ronnie’s neck with wet kisses and his hands are trailing down his stomach. Dennis fingers brush his crotch through the fabric of his shorts and a hunger, a neediness awakens inside of him. He can’t speak, managing “Shit man that’s...” befire trailing off, mouth agape. Ronnie groans, running solely on instinct now, as he dips his hands into the waistband of Dennis’ jeans and grabs two handfuls of his ass, pulling it down to meet his bucking hips. Dennis shifts his torso backwards, pulling down the zip on Ronnie’s shorts with one hand and running the other up his thigh. Dennis takes his cock out, eyes widening as it springs out of his shorts. He spits into his palm and runs it once down the shaft. Ronnie exhales a shaking breath and Dennis feels his thigh muscles tighten underneath him. He curls his fingers around Ronnie’s dick and begins stroking in earnest, picking up the pace and twisting his wrist on the upstroke. Ronnie’s now making urgent little noises, digging his fingers into Dennis’s ass, thrusting up into his practised grasp. Dennis grins, enraptured as he watches Ronnie’s face twist and unravel. Ronnie’s eyes bolt open, open but not seeing, utterly blissed out. He throws his head back against the mattress and groans “Fuck, fuck, fuck, Den I’m-”

And then he’s coming over Dennis’ hand, not ropes like Dennis is used to, not quite as thick, more an ooze, once, twice, three, four times. And then it’s over. He stills, panting. Ronnie sheepishly takes his clammy hands out of Dennis’s pants and wipes them on the bedsheets behind him, before slumping back against the side of the bed. Dennis climbs off Ronnie’s lap and lets himself fall back, lying down in the middle of the floor, staring at the woodchip ceiling. He holds his hand up against the light, watching the come on his fingers stretch and snap as he flexes his hand. He tentatively slides his fingers into his mouth and sucks them clean, before wiping them on the carpet. Ronnie tucks himself back in his shorts and rakes his hand through his hair. He tips his head back and swallows the rest of his beer, grimacing.

Ronnie smiles, watching Dennis light a cigarette. “You were wrong”

“Hmm?” Dennis says, through a long drag.

“Before, you were wrong. I don’t feel the same at all.”

Dennis takes the cigarette out of his mouth and carries on staring at the ceiling, unblinking. “Me neither.”


	2. Chapter 1

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It begins

It was unusually warm for March. The sun was bright and kids were already starting to wear their summer Gym clothes, even if just for a moment before the weather turned again. Ronnie watched them running around the soccer pitch from his spot on the other side of the chain link fence. When he used to ditch as a sophomore or even a junior, he lived in constant fear of being caught, being reprimanded, until he realised that no one gave a shit. No one gave a shit about him. No one gave a shit whether he went to class or not.

“Do you think worms have kings, man?”

Ronnie looked over at his friend Charlie. “What you say?”

He was holding a worm in his muddy hands, turning it over and watching it writhe around. “Y’know worms have these big burrows underground, do you think they have like, civilisations and buildings and kings? Do you reckon there are like worm wives going to the convenience store to buy worm food for their worm kids?”

Schmitty looked up from his binder and laughed. “Dude that’s fucking nuts, what have you been huffing?”

Charlie looked affronted “Only Elmers glue, I’m completely sober”

“Dude, you’re fucking gross. No wonder everybody calls you Dirt grub. You’re like a tiny little insect yourself, look at you.” Schmitty made to pinch Charlie’s stomach but Charlie leapt out of the way, so he ended up slipping forward into the dirt hole Charlie had been digging with his hands. 

Charlie rolled in the grass, laughing. “Ahaha! Who’s the Dirt Grub now?”

Schmitty leapt for his throat, straddling his waist and shoving his shoulders to the floor, fists full of his moth eaten t-shirt. “Still you, retard. You’re so small and wriggly, writhing around in the dirt, no wonder you like worms so much, you are one.”

Charlie spat in his face and kneed him hard in the crotch, scrambling away. “Fuck you man! My mom says I’m still gonna grow! So there!” He grabbed his rucksack and clambered off towards the school buildings. 

Ronnie watched him run away and shook his head. “You shouldn’t aggravate him like that”

Schmitty returned to his position reclining on the patchy grass. “Whatever, like I give a shit what Charlie Kelly thinks of me. You still working on that math homework?”

Ronnie squinted at the white, ruled pages of his notebook, luminescent in the bright sunlight. “Ish”

“What’s the point of ditching Spanish to do math if you’re not, y’know, gonna do math?”

But Ronnie was distracted already, pen in his mouth, gazing at the soccer players in their shorts and polo shirts. “Isn’t Dennis supposed to be playing today?”

“Dennis Reynolds? How the fuck should I know?”

Ronnie shrugged. “He usually has gym at this time, is all” 

Schmitty sat up, eyeing him sideways. “You’re just as weird as Charlie, you know that.”

They lay in silence for a while, Schmitty reading and taking notes whilst Ronnie struggled through pages 8-10 of his Algebra textbook. After what felt like hours of no progress, which in reality was about twenty minutes, Ronnie sighed and closed the book with a satisfying thud. He dug in his backpack and fished out a cigarette, lighting it with a box of cook’s matches he kept in his back pocket. He lay back and inhaled, idly listening to the soccer players practice. It really was a waste of a beautiful afternoon, doing math.

A voice from behind them said, “I hear those things’ll kill you”

Ronnie spun around, stubbing the cigarette out. He was ready with a litany of excuses and apologies, already beginning to stammer through the first few when he saw not a faculty member as he expected, but his idiot best friend.

“Dennis!” He leapt up to hug him, before delivering a blow to his forearm. “Fuck you! You scared the shit out of me!”

Dennis dropped his satchel and settled himself cross legged between Ronnie and Schmitty. “I thought you weren’t scared of anything, Ronald.” 

“Well I mean, obviously I wasn’t scared, really I-”

“Relax man”, Dennis grinned. “I’m just messing with you” he said with a wink.

Ronnie’s cheeks turned a pink that reached his ears.

“Oh yeah, obviously I knew that”

Dennis cracked open a can of root beer he’d fished out of his bag. “What are you guys doing anyway, working?”

Schmitty closed his book, “Well I’m working, Ronnie’s pretending to do math whilst looking for you on the soccer pitch.” 

Ronnie kicked him in the shin and flushed a deeper shade of red. “I absolutely was not! I just thought it weird how you should have been there and you weren’t man, like what if something had happened to you? I didn’t want that on my conscience. Anyway,” He continued, “I was doing math, I just..” his voice faltered. “I don’t understand any of it. And I’m failing. And I need to do well to graduate. Why aren’t you in gym?”

Dennis took another sip. “I could ask you why you’re not in Spanish.”

“But you love Gym”

Dennis straightened his legs out and arched his back like a cat, raising his arms above his head to stretch. “I don’t know man. Guess I just wasn’t feeling it today. Besides, I knew you guys would be here.”

Schmitty frowned. “How?”

Dennis smirked. “Ronnie’s always here when I have soccer.” Ronnie pretended to be intensely interested with his algebra notes. “Good weather, why waste it in class?”

“Yeah so why are you wearing a sweater then?”

Now it was Dennis’ turn to pretend not to hear, fiddling with the pull ring on his can. “Hmm?”

Schmitty rolled his eyes. “You just said it’s good weather, in fact it’s goddamn sweltering. Why are you wearing a sweater?”

Dennis blanched, folding his arms across his chest. “I don’t know Peter, why does anyone wear anything?”

Ronnie lit another cigarette. “It is pretty hot man”

“I’m not hot”, Dennis snapped, too quickly to not be suspicious. Ronnie saw his temples glisten with sweat, the way he wiped his damp hands on his jeans.

Schmitty scoffed. “You obviously are, why are you being so weird about this?”

Dennis’ eyebrows knotted together. “What’s with the third degree? If I want to wear a sweater I’ll wear a goddamn sweater! What’s it got to do with you or anybody?”

Schmitty threw his head back and at the sky. Maybe at God, maybe at no one in particular, and shouted. “Why are y’all so fucking weird? No, why do I hang around with such losers? If it’s not Dirt Grub or Psycho Pete it’s Ronnie the Rat and his even queerer friend with the retarded sister.” He started gathering his books together and shoving them aggressively into his backpack, before standing up. “I’m going to the library where normal people are and I can work in peace. I’ve hit my limit on freight train nonsense for today. Enjoy sucking each other’s dicks.” He went off in the same direction as Charlie had, towards school, towards everyone. 

“Jesus”, Dennis said softly, taking a sip. “That was...”

“Unnecessary” Ronnie supplied. He took one last sharp inhale of his cigarette, mostly filter, and flicked it over the fence.

“Right? He was...”

“Completely overreacting”

“I mean,” Dennis continued. Ronnie could tell that he had worked himself up now. He was tripping over his words, hands shaking. “God help that a man wants to wear a sweater, when it’s, when’s it’s, it’s..”

“Den” Ronnie had lowered his voice to almost a whisper now, soothing, placating in any way he could.

“March for Christsakes! Unbelievable”

“Dennis”, Ronnie reached a hand out and placed it on his cashmere shoulder, rubbing tiny circles with his fingertips.

“And who does he think he is, saying that we, we..”

Ronnie shifted himself so he was facing Dennis and placed a second hand on his other shoulder. He whispered, “Dennis. Shhh.. Ronnie says relax” and then Dennis stilled. He stared at Ronnie for a moment, something like sorrow, before looking down at the floor. He opened his mouth and closed it, swallowing something that seemed to have caught in his throat. And then he was blinking rapidly, and his shoulders were crumbling under Ronnie’s hands. Dennis brought both of his own to his face and then Ronnie felt him shake under his palms, tiny tremors that escalated into heaving sobs, tears coming thick and fast.

Dennis was collapsed into himself like those dying stars Charlie had told him about that burned too bright and had to implode. He straightened himself up and wiped his nose on his sweater sleeve, red eyes and wet lashes blinking fast. “I just”, he said through hiccups, “I’ve had a very long day.” Ronnie brought Dennis’ head to his chest and wrapped his arms around him tight, burying his nose in his soft curls. Dennis screwed his eyes shut and sniffed. “I’m just so worried”, he said, “about everything all the time”.

“You’re gonna be fine. You’re gonna be absolutely fine.”

Dennis shook his head. “But what if I’m not. Ronnie, I, I can’t cope with any of it. I can’t cope any more.” He sobbed harder, clutching at Ronnie’s t-shirt like it was a life raft.

“It’s okay dude, it’s okay.” Eventually the tears subsided to sniffling and Ronnie brought Dennis’ face up to meet his eyes, wiping the tear tracks on his cheeks with his thumb. “Listen man. Here’s what we’re going to do. I’m gonna drive you home, and then we’re gonna get some food in you, and you’re gonna shower and get changed, and then you’re gonna help me out with my math homework, because I’m totally fucked for tomorrow okay?”

Dennis laughed, sniffing. “It’s only 2:30 though, and I’m Dee’s ride home”

“Fuck Dee, man. She can catch a ride home with Pete or Schmitty.” 

Dennis exhaled, wiping his eyes. “Good one. Like Schmitty’s ever gonna be seen dead with that aluminium monster in his car.” He took another sip of his root beer, now flat, before offering it over. “You want the rest of this? It’s kinda making me feel sick.” Ronnie took it with a shrug, draining the rest and throwing it over his shoulder, before standing up decisively.

He offered his hand to Dennis. “Right. Come on man, let’s get you home.”

Dennis took it, letting himself be picked up to his feet. “They’re never gonna let us leave. And I really don’t wanna see my mom right now.”

“Sure they will, we’ll just say you’re sick. And they’ll believe us because, no offence man, you look like absolute shit right now.”

Dennis brushed the grass off of himself, saying “Gee, thanks” to no one in particular. He looked about for his satchel on the ground but it had gone. Ronnie had picked it up and slung it over his shoulder with his own backpack. Dennis resisted the urge to reach for his hand as they started making their way to the parking lot. Instead he played with the ends of his sleeves.

“Don’t worry about your mom dude”, Ronnie added, “We’ll just go straight to your room, say you need bed or some shit”

“I do need bed or some shit”, Dennis muttered. “I’m sorry about your shirt by the way.” He pointed to Ronnie’s chest, which had been decorated with Dennis’ wet tear stains and mucus tracks.

Ronnie looked down. “Oh this old thing? Nah don’t worry bro. I’m not on my way to a fashion parade or anything” Dennis resisted the urge to tell him that it was called a fashion show, not a fashion parade, but the words died in his mouth when he saw the earnest look in his eyes.

The journey home was quiet. Ronnie drove slowly, mostly out of sheer amazement that Dennis let him behind the wheel of his car, but partly due to the fact that he kept glancing over at the passenger seat. Dennis was curled up against the window, head resting on the cool glass, watching the world go by. Ronnie noticed that he disappeared sometimes. He put headphones in and closed his eyes, or else simply glassed over. When he wasn’t disappearing he was exploding, vibrating with rage and screaming until he was red in the face. Now was one of the quiet times, though. He wasn’t even fidgeting with his hands.

“You alright, man?” Ronnie said, affecting a tone he probably intended to be casual.

Dennis didn’t move his head. “Was that an actual question or are you just trying to make conversation?”

Ronnie coughed. “Uh, both? I guess. You’re letting me do most of the legwork, conversation-wise...”

Dennis suppressed a smile and glanced over, muttering “Yeah well, get used to it. I’m not feeling particularly talkative” He folded his arms over his chest and shuffled closer towards the door.

Ronnie shook his head. “Sure you are. Tell me about your day.”

“You sound like my fucking mom, dude” Dennis scoffed. Ronnie was still looking at him expectantly however, so he talked about his day. He told Ronnie all about how Dee made him late in the morning, and he couldn’t shower so he felt gross all day, which made him skip lunch as well as breakfast. He explained that he was irritable and lightheaded so he wasn’t thinking when he said he’d get some books out of the library for Mr. Thomas. “And you know, I just, hate going to the library. Ever since...” and then Dennis stopped talking, mid sentence. He started biting the skin around his fingernails. Ronnie knew how this sentence would end, but he wanted Dennis to find his own words. “Ever since Mrs. Klinsky.” He continued. “It’s not that the sex wasn’t fantastic, because hoo boy she has some moves, what a cougar it’s just...” he trailed off again.

Ronnie pulled into the Reynolds drive and turned off the engine. “It’s just what, Den?”

Dennis lowered his voice. “It’s just going in the library makes me feel kinda sick now? Like my heart beats kinda fast and my hands shake.” He furrowed his brow and lowered his voice. “It feels like there’s this hole in my chest, and nothing I can do will ever fill it” He then cracked a grin that didn’t reach his eyes, and shrugged. “I mean, all of this is probably just part of having a one night stand. It’s all just guilt that I haven’t called her back, you feel me?”

Ronnie bit his tongue. “Yeah Den, I feel you. Let’s go inside.”

After three bowls of cream of tomato soup and four cigarettes, Dennis lay on his bed, face buried in his stuffed elephant. Ronnie liked Dennis’ bedroom. It was clean and kinda girly, and he had a twin bed and a TV. It smelt like those candles you get at department stores, the ones that smell like fresh linens or cinnamon. He perched on the edge of the mattress, feet on the floor. They were watching an old Simpsons rerun, not quite paying attention, not doing anything else either. Ronnie noticed Dennis glancing at the clock. It was now past six. Dee should have been back by now. Ronnie shuffled further onto the bed, shins dangling off the end. Dennis slid his body over to make room. He pointedly looked at Ronnie, then at the space beside him. Ronnie looked back at Dennis, eyes wide, smiling softly, not understanding one iota. Dennis rolled his eyes. “Oh come on man just lie down”

Ronnie blinked. “Are you sure”

“For Christakes lie down, stop making it a thing!”

“And it won’t be weird?”

Dennis sat up. “Well it will be now!”

The door was thrust open with a bang. Sweet Dee was standing in the frame, utterly indignant. “Thanks for ditching me at school, dickbrain!” she screeched, storming into the room. “I had to get a bus home. A goddamn bus! With junkies and pedophiles! Do you know how humiliating that is?”

Dennis closed his eyes and gripped the bridge of his nose. “Your life is already humiliating, Deandra. What difference would a bus make?”

Dee pointed her finger at them both accusingly. “You’re gonna get in so much shit from mom and dad for ditching. When I tell them that you’re not really sick.”

Dennis groaned, still not opening his eyes. He threw an arm across his face dramatically. “I am sick, you stupid fucking bitch. Ronnie had to drive me here. Can you imagine how sick I’d have to be to let Ronnie the Rat drive my car? Get your head out of your ass, Dee.”

Dee stood silently fuming. “Whatever. Later boners. I’m gonna take so much fucking time in the bathroom, you won’t even get to piss before you go to school tomorrow.” She left, slamming the door hard behind her. Dennis’ Kate Bush poster fell softly down to the floor.

They stayed in silence for a few moments, listening to Dee clatter around the landing. There was another door slam, and then the bass of some very angry and very loud music came booming through the wall.

Ronnie stared at his lap, chewing his bottom lip. “You didn’t have to call me that, you know”, he said hoarsely.

Dennis sighed. “Call you what?”

“Ronnie the rat”, he said quietly. “You didn’t have to call me that”

Dennis made his eyeline and held it. He barely spoke the words “Come here”, more mouthing them and gesturing with his hand. Ronnie shucked his shoes off and nestled next to him, breathing in deep the smell of his sheets. It was all Dennis, fabric softener and tobacco and something warm he couldn’t quite place. Dennis buried his face into the stuffed elephant again, sighing contentedly. He walked one of his hands over to Ronnie’s waist, pulling him closer. Their faces were inches apart now. Ronnie could feel Dennis exhale. And it must have been this that made him slide one of his feet in between Dennis’ legs, rubbing up and down his ankle, tracing the arch of his foot with his own toes. Dennis’ nose crinkled up, and he smiled for the first time in hours. “That tickles”, he said, voice hoarse.

Ronnie looked away, and said “Oh- i’m sorry, I’ll stop”

Dennis’ hand tightened on his waist. “No! I-” he cleared his throat “I like it.” Ronnie felt strange. His chest was tight, and without any substance to guide him along, he was totally alone with this strangeness. Nothing to blame it on, nothing to attribute it to. Dennis could barely keep his eyes open. Ronnie watched as his eyelids drifted shut and snapped back open over and over again. Their legs were intertwined, their torsos only about a ruler’s length apart. Ronnie liked lacing and unlacing their feet together, soft socks brushing against each other. It was mindless comfort. Dennis hummed. “I think I might take a nap now”

Ronnie nodded. “You should. You’ve had a long day. I’ll leave you to-”

“No”, Dennis interrupted him. His eyes were closed now, his speech half slurred. “This is comfy. Don’t you dare leave.” So Ronnie stayed. He watched Dennis’ face soften and felt his hand go limp on his waist, but even then he couldn’t bear to dislocate himself, so he closed his eyes, and eventually slipped off too.

They awoke to the sound of some cats fighting outside. The room was pitch black save for the electric glow of the TV, bathing them in a neon wash. Dennis rubbed his eyes whilst Ronnie patted around the nightstand to hit the light of the clock. It read 01:07. Dennis smirked, and whispered “Guess this is a sleepover then”

Ronnie sat up. “Shit, I should be home. My mom is gonna be so worried about me”

Dennis shook his head. “Nah, no she won’t. You’re a big boy.”

Ronnie bit his lip. “I’ll go round in the morning before school, tell her I’m ok”

“You do that.” Dennis stretched, looking around him disinterestedly, eyes catching on Ronnie’s crotch. “Dude, do you have a boner right now?”

Ronnie leapt up off the bed, red in the face. “I just woke up! Leave me alone! It’ll go away in a minute.” He sheepishly turned around, looking down at himself. “Do you have pyjamas I can borrow?”

Dennis slid himself off the bed and walked over to his dresser in no rush whatsoever, carefully sliding open drawers and rooting around inside them, tossing the odd item over his shoulder. “I dunno. Mostly I just sleep in my underwear and some old t-shirt. Hang on.” He threw Ronnie a pair of tartan, fleece lined pyjama bottoms. “Try these. They might be a bit small.”

Ronnie pulled his shirt over his head and slipped his shorts off. He’d never felt quite this vulnerable before, down to his boxers in someone else’s bedroom. Dennis turned away from him and pulled his shirt and jumper off, replacing it with a long sleeved tee before he turned back around. He then pulled his trousers off, before turning off the TV, plunging them into complete darkness. He settled back into bed, this time arranging the comforter over himself, kicking his legs until he was comfortable. Ronnie laughed, gesturing down at himself. “I think these might be a bit small for me, bro.” The trousers were skintight and didn’t reach his ankles. He thought about the alternative, and ran a hand nervously across his torso.

Dennis shrugged. “Don’t wear them then. Just grab a t-shirt from the floor”. Ronnie peeled them off awkwardly, hopping out of the ankle as it clung to him. His erection had subsided by this point, thank God. He didn’t know if he could handle being practically naked as well as being hard in front of Dennis’ unwavering glare. Ronnie did as he was told and climbed into bed, lying flat on his back and staring at the ceiling. He felt too awkward to get comfortable, worried about his bare skin accidentally brushing against Dennis’. A few minutes passed in silence, before Dennis turned on his side to face him and whispered “You asleep?”

Ronnie shook his head. “Too awake now. I can’t sleep for shit”. He turned to face him back. “What about you?”

Dennis gazed up at him with gleaming eyes. Was his face always this close? He smiled, shoving the stuffed elephant under his pillow, and said “Me neither.” Ronnie swallowed. Dennis’ face was even closer now, his whispers little more than breath. “I just wanted to thank you, for earlier, for being there for me.”

Ronnie grinned. “Oh... that’s okay man, you don’t need to-” but Dennis was kissing him again. Soft, languid presses to his lips that knocked the breath out of him. Ronnie grabbed Dennis by the waist and rolled on top of him, opening his mouth to let him inside. He peppered open mouthed kisses down Dennis’ jawline, speaking in between, “Fuck, last week, it’s all I think about”. He moved down to the crook of Dennis’ neck and continued, “I thought you’d forgotten, I thought I was losing my mind.” Everything was different now. Ronnie felt things so much more, everything so much more visceral when you were sober. And skin on skin contact, in the dark, under sheets, it was that much more intimate, dangerous. 

Dennis dug his hands under Ronnie’s shirt, scraping fingernails down his back. Ronnie wondered whether Dennis would dig his hands under his skin if he could, flay him alive and nestle there. He pulled at Ronnie’s shirt, writhing underneath him, and whispered “Take it off”.   
Ronnie nodded, wide eyed, and pulled the shirt over his head, flinging it somewhere behind him. He was pretty sure that in this moment, he would kill a man if Dennis asked him to. He toyed with the hem of Dennis’ long sleeved tee, running a hand up his slender torso. “You?” Ronnie asked. Dennis shook his head no. He resumed sucking Dennis’ neck. He knew when to leave something alone. He trailed a hand up the inside of Dennis’s thigh and felt him shiver, gently easing his legs apart and pressing their crotches together with a shudder.

And then something dark passed over Dennis’ face. He pushed Ronnie off him and retreated to the headboard. Ronnie froze in fear, mouth opening to ask one of the very many questions that were running through his mind! before Dennis held a hand out to stop him. “Before we, before I..” He cursed, running a hand through his hair and frowning. “Just so you know, recently I’ve been having problems with..” He gazed around the dark room, trying to choose his words, but none came. 

Ronnie sat back, relaxing. “It’s okay, bro. We don’t have to-”

“But I want to!” Dennis said, indignant. He looked at the door, realising how loud he was being, and adjusted his voice. “But I want to”, he whispered. “It’s just my stupid dumb body doesn’t seem to want to cooperate recently. When I’m with girls I can’t... Y’know... And even when I can, when I’m alone, I find it really hard to...” He cleared his throat, not making Ronnie’s eye contact. “So if I don’t seem like I’m enjoying this it’s not you it’s just-”

He trailed off as Ronnie took his face in his hands and kissed him square on the mouth. Handling him like he was fragile, wrapping his legs around him so he was sitting in his lap. Dennis seemed contented to try and touch every part of him he could reach, ghosting his hands over Ronnie’s nipple, giving him goosebumps. Neither of them seemed to be able to stop, once gentle kisses sloppier, noises of assent coming involuntarily, encouraging rolls of the hips and clenched fists. Dennis pushed Ronnie down to lie flat on his back, shoving the comforter off the bed. He rested on his haunches, staring at his disheveled friend, before climbing over him, looming above his face. Dennis whispered “What do you want to do?”

Ronnie swallowed. “I want to touch myself. I want you to touch me” he gasped, guiltily. “Dennis”, he exhaled, like it was a secret. “You know how you said it works when you’re alone?” Dennis nodded. “Touch yourself for me” Ronnie breathed. “Like you do when you’re alone”

Dennis blinked and leaned back, bizarrely calm. He took his briefs off leg by leg, not breaking eye contact as he did so. He sat down across from Ronnie and looked down in his own lap, hesitating. Ronnie didn’t stir. Dennis bit his lip and started to palm himself, tugging at the soft flesh. His dick began to thicken in his hand and he cursed, low and quiet, running a hand underneath his shirt and over his chest. He reached over and took a bottle of lotion out of the bedside drawer, lifting his shirt and squirting it on his exposed stomach. He rubbed it in, spreading it up to his chest, lingering on his nipples and down to his crotch, using it to slick his shaft. His thighs inched apart and his toes curled in the sheets as he settled back into his pillows, legs spread. He was stroking his dick with his lotioned hand and holding his balls with the other, picking up momentum. 

Ronnie slowly slid his boxers off and crawled towards Dennis at the head of the bed. He stopped at his feet before looking up, raising an eyebrow, asking permission. Dennis nodded, and Ronnie leaned down to mouth at his inner thighs, feeling him shiver under his tongue. He carried on up the leg, kissing and licking the groove between thigh and pelvis. Dennis worked non-dominant fingers through Ronnie’s hair, cupping his face, muttering words like “shit”, “Ronnie” and “please”. Ronnie grabbed at the hand on Dennis’ dick, moving it away, and took him into his mouth. He tried to match the pace Dennis had set, but it was punishing, and the lotion tasted awful. Nevertheless, he carried on, using one of his hands to help him. Dennis’ legs were shaking, he was picking his feet up and putting them down again, digging them into the mattress, flexing his toes. Ronnie ground his own cock into the sheets over and over again, rutting in time to his mouth on Dennis.

Dennis’ hand was still in his hair, the other shoved in his mouth for him to bite on. He was salivating all over it, the spit escaping out the corner of his mouth. “I don’t think I can.. Ronnie I can’t...” he gasped.

Ronnie whispered through feather light kisses to Dennis’ abdomen, not wanting to waste a second where he could be making him feel good, right hand still stroking Dennis’ cock, the left between his own legs. “Dennis, it’s okay. You can relax now. Let go.”

Ronnie put his mouth around him and Dennis’ eyes fluttered shut and he washed away, fizzing from the inside out. He felt himself pulse inside Ronnie’s mouth but he wasn’t sure where one body ended and the other began. It was a few moments before he realised Ronnie had come too and striped his sheets with jizz. Ronnie lay there in it, completely naked, panting, covered in a sheen of sweat. 

When Dennis came back to himself he frowned, glancing around the bed. He nudged Ronnie with his foot and asked “Dude did you swallow?”

Ronnie looked up at him confused, seeming to not understand she question at first. “What? Uh... Yeah, I guess so. Why?”

Dennis shrugged, “No reason. Just uh... Thanks I suppose”

Ronnie grinned, bemused, looking for his boxers on the floor. “You’re welcome.”

They lay in the dark for a while, silent, not touching, until Ronnie whispered “Fuck, man.”

Dennis turned towards him. “What?”

Ronnie smiled, despite himself. “We didn’t do my math homework”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I’m gonna try and keep my boys happy for as long as I can but that’s not very long. They gonna get miserable real fast. Find me at hennglowerton on tumblr


	3. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> seems like our boys are getting a bit too happy.. would be a shame if.. something happened

It was overcast outside the windows, making the lunchroom seem much darker than it should at midday in June. The fluorescent strip lights cast an unnatural, chemical glare on the students of St. Joes, giving everyone a sallow, unwell look. Nobody seemed quite as unwell as Dennis though, whose bloodshot eyes were ringed with grey, face pallid and hair long and unkept. Ronnie watched as he masticated a ham and cheese sandwich, pulling it apart with nicotine stained fingers and inspecting the contents. 

“You guys coming to my party tomorrow?” Dooley asked, slamming a plastic tray down on the table and taking a seat. “There’s some girls from Notre Dame coming, Stacy Corvelli anyone?”

Ronnie whistled low. She was admittedly pretty hot. He nudged Dennis’s foot. “What do you think? Should we make an appearance?” He asked. For the last couple of months, they had been inseparable. Most weeknights they would go back to either of their houses to do homework and watch TV, or else smoke weed and listen to tapes or rent a video. Nine times out of ten these evenings ended up with Dennis and Ronnie intertwined around each other. Sometimes the gap between their faces closed and they’d spend an hour lazily making out and ignoring the television. When they’d have a sleepover, Dennis would cram his body into Ronnie’s tiny single bed and they’d finish the night sticky and panting against each other. 

“Might be fun”, Dennis shrugged. “Plus you’d be able to make some pretty serious money selling to Adriano and his goons” Their legs were flush with each other. Ronnie could feel heat radiating from where they touched. “Plus we could probably stay at mine after”, Dennis added. They held eye contact for a few seconds and Dennis took another bite of his sandwich. Ronnie watched him chew and swallow. 

“Anyone else gonna try and get laid?” Schmitty asked. “‘Cause we need to get enough liquor to get these girls absolutely wasted, man.” Dooley nodded reverently. “That’s the easiest way to get in their pants. Get ‘em drunk, get ‘em alone, the end writes itself.”

“I don’t know man, sounds kinda rapey to me” Charlie said.

“No one asked you, worm boy”, Schmitty replied. “How you ever got laid I’ll never know.”

Charlie shrugged. Suddenly Pete launched into a story about something that happened in English and the conversation moved on. Ronnie was thankful. He didn’t know if he could handle it if anyone turned to him and asked about his sex life. Dennis leaned in close to his ear, speaking so low Ronnie could barely hear him. “Just to be clear” he breathed, grinning, “You’re gonna fuck me after Dooley’s party tomorrow night.” Ronnie swallowed and took a sip from his can, his face burning. 

That afternoon he took the long way home, chain smoking as he walked and flicking the ends behind him. The faint beginnings of drizzle began to scatter from the sky. Goosebumps prickled on his forearms. He hadn’t put on a jacket this morning. Eventually there was nothing left in his packet of Lucky Strikes and he found himself outside Charlie’s house. He ran a hand through his hair. He could just go home. He should just go home. He should just go home and wait for Dennis to call him, or else turn up at his doorstep. As he paced in front of the Kelly house the drizzle thickened into a full on downpour and Ronnie found himself soaked, banging on the door with a closed fist. Charlie answered, acne-ridden face covered in white and blue. He grinned. “Ronnie! What are you doing here man? You look wet as shit!” 

“Yeah, about that”, Ronnie grimaced, “Can I come inside?” He followed Charlie through to his room, where he had clearly been playing with one of those multicoloured xylophone pianos made for toddlers. “What have you got on your face dude?”

Charlie smiled sheepishly. “Yeah I heard that toothpaste was good for spots and junk? So I squeezed a tube on my face, but, uh, it doesn’t seem to be working, because it’s been about a half hour and I just checked and I still have ‘em, so...” Ronnie didn’t have the energy to argue with him, so he just let himself fall down on the bed with a soft thud. “You alright bro?” Charlie asked. “It’s just that you kinda stink of cigarettes? And you’re soaking wet? And you look like you wanna kill yourself?”

Ronnie ran a hand through his wet hair and down his face. “How you can smell anything through that toothpaste, I don’t know.” 

“Since when did you smoke that much anyway?”

Ronnie shrugged. “I’ve been uh... hanging a lot with Dennis Reynolds.” He sighed. He felt sick and he didn’t know why. He wanted to talk to Dennis about it, like everything in his life, except he was pretty sure Dennis was the one person he shouldn’t be talking to any of this about.

Charlie started playing with the xylophone, hammering out some surprisingly pretty tune. “What’s on your mind, buddy?”

Ronnie traced the pattern on the bedspread with his fingertips and kicked his sneakers off. “Got any smokes?”

Charlie shook his head. “Nah. My mom would smell it. She’s pretty weird about stuff being clean.” He looked so out of place in this immaculate room. Sure there were little pockets of strange shit and grossness, like his Bigfoot poster, nail collection and ant farm, but generally everything was in shades of pastel and practically wrapped in plastic. 

Ronnie sat on the floor opposite Charlie, leaning against the warm radiator. It was scorching on his wet shirt, sizzling through the fabric, but the feeling was welcome. He hesitated, wondering whether to ask what he was about to ask. He came to the conclusion that neither him or Charlie probably gave a shit, and bit his tongue. “Remember when you had sex, man?”

Charlie knotted his brows and laughed, bemused, but didn’t stop plunking at the little multicoloured instrument. “Yeah, why?”

“How did you feel about it?”

Charlie stopped playing and exhaled. “Bizarre. I think. Why?”

Ronnie bit his lip. “Just been thinking about sex stuff recently. Girls, you know.” 

Charlie gave him a strange look that he couldn’t decipher. “Yeah, I know girls”

Ronnie shifted in his seat. “Did any of it make you feel kinda guilty?”

“I mean the whole thing felt kinda gross? You know? Apart from right near the end, that feels pretty good. I dunno. Until it gets to the real good part it’s all just touching and shit, which I’m not sure if I’m into. I give it two stars.”

Ronnie snorted, despite himself, and clasped a hand to his mouth, suppressing giggles. “You give sex two stars out of five?”

“Yep.” Charlie nodded, utterly serious. “It can’t give me anything I can’t give myself. Apart from a baby, which would be cool I guess? I could train it to be my sidekick.”

“So you don’t believe in sex that doesn’t lead to procreation?”

“That’s a very long word you just threw at me, dude.”

Ronnie bit his thumbnail. “Yeah it is, isn’t it.” He didn’t know what to make any of this. One the one hand, Dennis, his Dennis, beautiful Dennis, who made parts of him ache that he didn’t even know existed. On the other, the idea of having sex with him made his stomach drop. Every bone in his body told him to run away, to flirt with every girl who crossed his path until he found one to marry and have two and a half kids with. Messing around with a guy was fine, just bros being bros, but sodomy was very much in the Not Okay section of his brain. 

“You good man?” Charlie was looking at him quizzically.

“Yeah”, Ronnie lied. “I’m fine.” He wasn’t. He wasn’t ready for any of this. He wasn’t ready. He wasn’t ready. He wasn’t ready. He needed to tell Dennis.

Saturday evening came damp and chilly. Ronnie hadn’t heard anything from Dennis at all, despite practically waiting next to the phone. Dennis didn’t like when he called the Reynolds landline. He said he didn’t want his family to “get the wrong idea”. Ronnie showered, covered himself in body spray and got dressed, putting on an old chain of his dad’s. Still no word from Dennis. Ronnie kissed his mom goodbye and headed out to Dooley’s. 

He could hear the bass of some awful music playing from a few houses away. His heart was beating too fast, his skin prickling from nervous energy. He sat on the wall at the end of the front garden and rolled a skinny joint, just something to take the edge off. He cracked his knuckles and tapped his foot against the sidewalk, wet with mulch from two days of rain and garden clippings. It was oddly serene out here. The curtains were drawn but he could make out shadowy figures moving inside, whoops of laughter and indistinct chatter echoing out from behind the windows. Was Dennis one of them? Was he already inside, revelling with Dooley and Pete and Schmitty? Or maybe he was still at home, calling the McDonald house and twisting his finger around the phone cord the way he did when he was concentrating. 

Ronnie stubbed out the roach and rang the buzzer, a wave of chemical calm now washing over him. Dooley answered with a roar, grabbing him into a bear hug. “Ronnie! About fucking time you got here!” He dragged Ronnie to the kitchen, where a few girls he didn’t recognise were hanging around, solo cups filled with something murky. “These people are in desperate need of your product, man.” He dropped his voice, leaning into Ronnie’s shoulder. “These ladies in particular could do with some relaxing if you know what I mean.” He cackled and let his shoulder go, before disappearing into the crowd. 

The girls looked at him and smiled nervously. Ronnie swallowed. “I’m Ronnie”, he said politely, offering a hand for them to shake and then quickly retracting it when they eyed it dubiously. “So, uh.. you looking to buy?” Ronnie didn’t really understand girls. They spoke in a language he didn’t understand and their bodies curved with mysterious weight that pulled and pushed from under their clothes. He supposed it hadn’t helped that he’d been to boys schools all his life. One girl in particular, Anna-Louise, seemed to have taken an interest in him. She leaned in close when he rolled for her, ghosting his forearm with her fingers as she spoke. Her shoulders sparkled with body glitter and her lips were dark with gloss. Several butterflies were clipped into her red hair. 

“Heeeeeeeeeyyyyy” A hand clapped his back. “Where did you come from?” Ronnie would know that voice anywhere. It was Dennis, giddy and drunken, mouth wet and eyes heavy lidded. He’d already spilled something down his shirt, and he swayed a little as he spoke. 

“Hey man”, Ronnie replied, trying to seem as nonchalant as possible. “How long have you been here?”

“Oh y’know...” Dennis rubbed his eye with the heel of his palm. “Got here this afternoon to help Dooley set up”

“That... honestly explains a lot”, Ronnie admitted. “You wanna go talk in the yard for a sec?”

“Naaaah dude. Come dance.” He put his arm around Ronnie’s shoulders and took him to the living room, half leading him, half resting his weight on his shoulders. Shitty club music was playing over Dooley’s hi-fi. It was dark, the shade over the ceiling light having been covered with a piece of red fabric so that everything was only half-illuminated, warm and shadowy. Bodies moved about each other, dancing, talking, making out. You couldn’t tell the difference unless you looked close. Dennis shrugged Ronnie’s jacket off his shoulders and threw it on an armchair. He was saying something in Ronnie’s ear. 

“I can’t hear you!” Ronnie shouted back.

Dennis put a hand on his waist and leaned in again, saying something.

“Dennis!” Ronnie leaned back. The music was blaring in his ear. People were shouting. He gestured to his ear with his hand. “I can’t hear you!”

Dennis moved in close so that their bodies were flush. He put his mouth right over Ronnie’s ear. “I missed you today!” He shouted. Ronnie stiffened. Dennis was looking at him in a way Ronnie had never seen him look at anybody before. His hand still rested on his waist, almost for balance at this point. And then Dennis was dancing, stumbling around, lost in the music. He still had his hand on Ronnie’s waist, drawing him in close. He put his other hand on the back of Ronnie’s neck. Ronnie shrugged it off, taking half a step back but continuing to dance, eyes darting around him. Dennis took another step towards him, leaning in. 

Ronnie shoved him off. “Dude, what the fuck!” Dennis seemed confused. Ronnie grabbed his wrist and led him through the kitchen to the end of the yard. It was dark, the grass was wet, the night air caught in his nostrils. Without his jacket, the wind made him shake. Dennis took a messy gulp from his cup. “Dennis, what in God’s name are you doing?”

Dennis shrugged. “Drinking. Dancing. Ronnie” he smiled. “What in God’s name are you doing?” He stepped towards Ronnie, hooking his free hand in his belt and yanking their crotches together. 

Ronnie pushed him away with both hands. “No! No man, it’s too much.”

Dennis stilled, frowned. “What’s wrong?”

“Ronnie grabbed Dennis’s cup and downed the contents, frowning, throwing it in a flowerbed. “What’s wrong is that we’re in a goddamn party full of everyone we know!” Dennis blinked. “What’s wrong, is that I turn up and you’re fucking wasted!”

Dennis stepped towards him, reaching a hand out. “Ronnie I can make you feel better, if you’d just let me-”

Ronnie shoved him back, hard. Dennis stumbled back into the garden fence with a clatter. “I said no! I don’t want this, Dennis. I don’t want you!”

Dennis looked up at him, body crumpled against the garden trellis. He looked broken. “You don’t want me?” 

Ronnie put a hand to his forehead, sighing. “It’s not- I’m just not-” He stammered. 

Dennis got to his feet. “Sure you’re not.”

“Dennis”

“No” He said, brushing his clothes off. “I get it. Now if you don’t mind, I’m gonna go get laid.” He was slurring his words. Ronnie watched him stumble away towards the house. He kicked a gnome, sending it smashing into the fence. He punched a tree, over and over until his knuckles bled and tears were slipping out of the corners of his eyes. He lit another joint, bigger this time, enough to completely knock him out. He felt less cold now, adrenaline and pain coursing through his veins, pot settling in his chest comfortably. He rejoined the party, swallowing whatever abandoned cups he found, losing himself in dancing. After a while, he locked eyes with Anna-Louise across the floor, moving closer and closer to her until she put her hands on him, running her fingers through his hair and putting her tongue in his mouth. It felt good. It felt good to be wanted, it felt good having another body on his. It made him feel like a stud.

“You wanna go upstairs?” He murmured against her mouth. She nodded and he grasped her soft hand, interlocking their fingers, leading her to Dooley’s parents room. She kissed him against the door, and Ronnie reached for the knob behind him without opening his eyes, letting himself be walked inside. 

“Oh shit!” a high pitched voice from inside cried. Ronnie’s eyes bolted open. Some blonde was hastily covering her chest with a comforter. Dennis was under her, pulling his pants up, grinning ear to ear. Ronnie’s heart was in his stomach. They made eye contact for a few seconds before he had to look away. It was like gazing into the sun. Ronnie looked at Dennis, and the girl, and Anna-Louise, making hasty apologies and bolting downstairs. He grabbed his jacket and a bottle of vodka and carried on running, past the front door down the street until he was in the clear. He stopped at an intersection and vomited.

He walked home swigging from the bottle until the world was blurry around the edges and his eyelids were heavy. His mom was still up when he got in, watching TV and smoking cigarette after cigarette. He wordlessly went upstairs and collapsed on his bed, not bothering to take his shoes off or even get under his blanket. After a couple of minutes he fell into dreamless sleep, still clutching the bottle.

**Author's Note:**

> Yo if you have any ideas/abuse/questions i’m hennglowerton on tumblr


End file.
